


I'd sooner have the real you

by Kirkwallgirl



Series: Freckles and Feathers [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dolls, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Fluff, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6342484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirkwallgirl/pseuds/Kirkwallgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka. the Doll Fic.</p>
<p>Hawke is leaving to Skyhold, and has a parting gift for Anders. It is not what Anders would have expected at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd sooner have the real you

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was written very quickly after an anon on Tumblr sent me an ask saying: "Idea: Jay knitting Anders his own [Jay doll](http://kirkwallgirl.tumblr.com/post/141301208809/kirkwallgirl-oh-and-some-doll-jay-progress-pics) to snuggle while Jay is at skyhold".
> 
> I have no idea yet if I consider this a canon event but I liked the idea a lot and nearly cried. xD

Since the letter had arrived, both Hawke and Anders had been plunged into a cold river, it felt like - an empty feeling sloshed in their stomachs, and every breath, every movement swept them closer and closer to the inevitable moment of separation. _A week_ , they’d agreed when the letter arrived. _Seven days_. They could talk until they were blue about how it was for the best and how they had to clench their jaws and do it, but it never made it feel any better.

The seven days were at the same time excruciatingly long, and way too short. Anders could hear the Calling Varric had spoken of in his mind, sometimes quieter, and sometimes louder and louder until all he could do was to curl up and cover his ears and beg for it to stop. Hawke helped him however he could, and they were both scared of what might come after the seven days were done and he couldn’t be there anymore. Anders spent much of his remaining nervous energy on writing letters that he’d send with Hawke, or copying his manifesto. Hawke sat knitting something near him - close enough to reach and touch - in companionable silence in the meanwhile, making sure every now and then that they both remembered to eat and stretch their legs and straighten their backs. Anders didn’t pay attention to it because it wasn’t rare to see Hawke knitting one thing or another in his spare time, and Hawke usually tucked it away before Anders was finished, so he forgot to ask.

_____

Finally the day of Hawke’s departure arrived. The two of them huddled in bed for as long as they could, limb tangled in limb, breath warm on each others’ skins, but eventually hunger and need drove them out into the cool cottage.

“I have something for you,” Hawke said when they’d stalled for as long as they dared, and went to pick something from his side of the chest of clothes at the foot end of their bed. He handed it wordlessly to Anders, who turned it over in his hands a couple of times, confused.

It was a doll - one of the misshapen, lumpy things Hawke had made for the children in Darktown sometimes. Those dolls had always looked ugly in Anders’ eyes but the children had cherished them nevertheless, and even fought over them until Hawke had made a new one and told everyone that everyone could have their turn to have it.

Anders looked cautiously up at Hawke. Hawke had a strange look on his face - expectant, slightly worried. It was not like him to look so hesitant when giving out gifts, and Anders heart stumbled painfully in his chest.

“A doll?” Anders said, and the word fell clumsily from his tongue. He scolded himself for not sounding grateful, but the question had escaped him too quickly.

“It’s me,” Hawke said, and turned the doll over again in Anders’ hands to reveal the face. Anders stared at the doll, running his fingers over its round middle and over the wild hair. He could see it now: Hawke hadn’t had the right colors but had made do with what he did have, so the hair was brown mixed with bright red, and the skin a light grey tone, and the eyes were brown instead of the warm golden tone they really were. Hawke had even stitched in the scars on his cheek, and tied the doll’s beard in a little tail. “I thought- oh Maker, it’s stupid, I- I thought–”

“It’s perfect,” Anders said shakily, interrupting him, and had to fight to get the words out through the tears that were welling up now. He hadn’t wanted to cry - _make it easier for him to leave_ \- but couldn’t stop the tears when they ran onto his cheeks. He squeezed the doll in his hands and fixed his eyes in Hawke’s. “I love it, Ha- Hawke. Jay.” A sob bubbled up from his chest, and he stepped against Hawke, wrapping one arm around him and burying his face into his shoulder. Hawke hugged him tightly and groaned softly.

“Oh Anders, please don’t cry, or I will cry and I know I won’t be able to stop-”

“Too late,” Anders said, laughing a little, and sniffled before pulling back and giving Hawke a bright - if a little shaky- smile. “Thank you, love. I will cherish this. But promise me to come back, Jay. It would kill me to lose you. Just… come back to me. Please. I’d sooner have the real you than a doll.”

“I promise.” They both knew he couldn’t really make that promise, but they didn’t want to even entertain the alternative.

_____

Late that night - or next morning, almost - Anders finally curled up in bed, wrapping himself tightly around the empty hole in his chest, exhausted from rattling around the empty house all day, but still unable to sleep. Nightmares lurked too close, and he didn’t have the strength to face them. The dog curled in the foot end of the bed with a whine, back against Anders’ shins. Even with her there, there was too much space in the bed, and even with all that space around him, it was hard to breathe.

The doll caught his eye, lying face up on the edge of the bed where he’d discarded it earlier. He stared at it for a while, chewing on a thought, and then reached for it, hesitantly. He pulled the doll tightly against his chest and buried his nose into its hair. It smelled of wool, but when he squeezed tighter, trying to get a grip tight enough to be comforting, a sweet flowery smell surprised him. He buried his nose deeper into the doll’s head, sniffing, and laughed.

It was a little easier to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, the sweet scent is Embrium flowers, which have actual healing properties - Jay has basically stuffed a pouch of it inside the doll's tummy and head. This isn't clear in the fic, and isn't necessarily meant to be, but in case anyone wondered about it, there is the explanation. ^u^ The real Jay doll smells vaguely of green mint tea because there is a bag of it inside its gut. xD
> 
> This fic can also be read on Tumblr at [Kirkwallgirl](http://kirkwallgirl.tumblr.com/post/141142688459/idea-jay-knitting-anders-his-own-jay-doll-to).


End file.
